


Make me yours. Guide me. Teach me.

by Angel_Baby01



Category: Enola Holmes (2020), Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer
Genre: But what did you really expect?, Corporal Punishment, Enola and Sherlock eventual romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mycroft is a jerk!, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Being a Hero, Sibling Incest, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Baby01/pseuds/Angel_Baby01
Summary: Enola is removed from school by Sherlock after being severely punished by Miss Harrison. Thus begins the adventures of a brother sister duo that will eventually become so much more.
Relationships: Enola Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 71
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Enola and Sherlock fic! I watched Enola Holmes when it came out and I loved it, but never thought of pairing these two up! I am finding that a lot with my fan fics these days lol. 
> 
> This story was inspired by the one and only [JokeringCutio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breakingthestandards/pseuds/JokeringCutio)
> 
> If you have not read Pine Cone Child, you don't know WHAT you are missing. I am head over heels in love with it. 
> 
> As a warning, there is some corporal punishment in the first part of the chapter. If you are triggered by that, it starts where it says clearly you need a firmer hand skip to when it says her punishment was over. There is also some descriptions of what happens after towards the end where Sherlock says What did she do to you Enola? skip to did they do anything for you? 
> 
> I can't think of anything else to add, just I hope you like it!

It had been a small victory to Enola.

Slamming the pea soup at the giggling girls. Like they were somehow better than she was, just because she slurped her soup. She could guarantee to anyone here that she had more intelligence and wit in one finger than any of these stuck up prigs had in their whole nincompoop bodies.

But sadly, the victory was short lived. Miss Harrison had risen and stared down Enola so hard that Enola felt lucky that she couldn’t die from such looks.

“Miss Holmes. You may be excused to my office.”

Enola stood up, a dark look on her own face before she walked away from the table and down the hallway to Miss Harrison’s office. She sat down on the bench outside of the office, waiting for whatever the Head Mistress had in store for her.

One of the girls from the table that had been sprayed with her soup appeared with a scrap of paper. She handed it to sectary and then with a glare to Enola, walked away. The sectary read the note and looked at Enola with wide eyes before she went back to whatever it was she was doing.

Enola’s palms started to sweat. There was signs, tells, that something bad was getting ready to happen. She wanted to get up and run, but where would she run to? She looked around, trying to think of an escape route when Miss Harrison appeared, flanked by two students. They went into the office and shut the door, Enola saw her chance and looked at the secretary.

“May I visit the WC?”

The secretary looked up and frowned over her glasses.

“All students that need to be seen by Miss Harrison are to remain seated.”

Enola rolled her eyes. “Where did you get your charm school degree?” She muttered under her breath. She was going to get up and run, but the door to Miss Harrison’s office opened. The stoned face prune stood in the doorway.

“Come in Enola.”

Enola stood and walked into the office. The two students stood next to the desk, looking formidable.

Miss Harrison gave Enola a bush between her shoulder blades which made her stumble over to the desk.

“You seem to have a problem here Enola. A problem with obedience.”

“Why, because I refuse to prance about like a circus poodle? All poof and pampered, no brains?”

Miss Harrison smirked and walked over to a small cupboard. She removed a key from her pocket and unlocked it.

“No, because you refuse to understand how the world works. How the world demands you to be an obedient girl, and you seem to not understand that to be able to live in well in this world, you need to agree. Keep Sweet as it were. But I have many tools as my disposal to help you with that. I hoped to build up to them, but clearly, **clearly** a girl like you needs a firmer hand.” 

She opened the cupboard and pulled out a wood yard stick out of her cupboard and shut it. She turned and nodded to the two students who grabbed Enola’s wrists and yanked her down across the desk.

Enola yelped as she was yanked. “Get off me!” She watched as Miss Harrison moved around the desk and behind her.

“Now, Enola, I never wanted to get this harsh. But you have simply left me no choice.”

She felt the skirt of her dress being lifted up and her bloomers being pulled down.

“No stop!”

“Now Enola, you must understand, I do this because I care.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the sound of wood connecting with skin filled the room.

Enola screamed from the force of the yard stick against her tender skin. She struggled to get away, but the students held her fast.

Miss Harrison struck her again and again, tears streamed down Enola’s cheeks. “I-I will tell my brother!”

There is a brief pause in the movement of the yard stick. “Your brother has already been informed that you committed a discretion and that you were properly punished.” Another smack made Enola cry out.

“I have another brother you tossed up sod!”

There was another pause before Miss Harrison laughed bitterly before cracking the yard stick against her bare flesh.

“Sherlock Holmes cares for nothing but himself.”

*********

When her punishment was over, the two students that had held her down helped her stumble out of the office. They were supposed to take Enola to her room, but she convinced them to take her to infirmary.

Her ass was on fire, and she could hardly walk, but her steel determination kept her from passing out before they got there.

Once they had deposited her on the bed, the nurse came over to check her and clucked her tongue gently.

“Oh dear, another one.”

Enola moaned softly. “Does she do this often?”

The nurse said nothing, just went to the cabinet and got a small brown bottle.

“I am going to give you a drop of Laudanum, it will help with the pain.”

Enola grabbed the nurse’s wrist. “W-Wait. I need to get a letter out, to my brother Sherlock Holmes please.”

The nurse hesitated, just for a moment, but that was all Enola needed.

“Please, my other brother doesn’t care, and I can’t handle another punishment like that. For nothing more than spilled soup!”

The nurse hesitated again, but steeled herself, pulled a pad of from her pocket and handed it to Enola.

Enola scribbled a quick message and handed it to the nurse. “221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes.”

The nurse hesitated for a brief moment before she smiled and nodded.

*********

It was hard for Enola to sit or stand the next couple of days, so she had some reprieve. Not that Miss Harrison seemed sorry for what she did, but probably didn’t realize the extent of the damage she had done.

Enola had been sitting in her room, the bed the only place to sit when Miss Harrison appeared to tell her that she had a visitor. She expected Mycroft to add to her punished state, but to her surprise it was Sherlock. Tears filled her eyes, so happy he got her note and listened to her.

His face gave away nothing, but he did dismiss Miss Harrison with almost a flick of his hand.

The two faced each other for a moment before he spoke.

“I received your note. And what it said didn’t bring me here, it’s what it didn’t say.”

He pulled the note from his pocket and read off:

158 1985181215311 161251195 315135 119 19151514 119 251521 3114 9 14554 851216 161251195 1215225 51415121

He looked up at her expectantly. “Which translates to: Sherlock, please come as soon as you can. I need help. Please. Love, Enola.”

He folded the note and put it into his coat pocket. “A rudimentary code, easily broken. Which tells me that something is very wrong. And then, when you walked in, you looked lame. So when I originally came, I expected begging and tears. Instead I find…this. So now, my interest is well and truly piqued. So what is going on Enola?”

Enola opened her mouth to speak, but instead great gulping sobs spilled from her lips. Sherlock moved around the desk, clearly distressed by this display of emotions. “Enola?”

He slid his hands to her shoulders which made her cry out. He frowned as she hunched herself, clearly in pain. “What in the world?”

Enola sucked in a breath. “S-S-She p-p-p-punished me. I-I splashed soup on some girls, and…” Sobs spilled harder and faster from her lips.

Sherlock’s face hardened into a mask of almost fury. “What did she do to you Enola?” He spat out.

Enola stumbled over to the desk, and tugged down her drawers. She leaned over the desk and lifted her skirt, still sobbing.

Sherlock froze.

Enola’s ass, thighs, and up her back was mottled with bruises. He could feel himself wanting to vomit at what he was seeing. The bruises were blue, green and black, there were cuts that looked angry and were still seeping blood.

He turned away from her and sucked in a breath. “Did they do anything for you?”

He heard the rustling of clothing as she redressed herself. “A drop of Laudanum.”

The anger surged harder. “A drop of Laudanum?”

“Yes.”

The rage swarmed over him so fast and hard that he couldn’t see anything. “Go upstairs, pack your things and meet me outside. **If** I am not there, just get in the carriage and wait.”

“What?”

Sherlock rounded on her, still furious. “Enola, I am going to make you my Ward. And one of the first things I want you to learn is when I give you an order, you obey with no fussing. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded her head tears gathering in her eyes as she limped out.

He left the room to deal with Miss Harrison.

*********

With the help of a couple of students, Enola managed to get her trunk outside. The driver got it loaded and helped her into the carriage. He gave her a smile and tipped his cap. “You’ll be alright Miss?”

She nodded her head and dried her eyes. “It will be once we get going.”

She looked up as her brother appeared. His fury was being controlled, but by his stride, she could see he was still **very** angry.

He climbed into the carriage, sat down across from her, and banged the roof roughly. She sucked in a breath and he looked at her wide tear stained face.

“You will be happy to know that you are no longer a student of Miss Harrison’s Finishing School. And if I have anything to say about it, you shall not be a student of any finishing school.”

She nodded and wiped her still dripping eyes. He sighed softly.

“I have said before, and I will say it again. You're being emotional. It's understandable, but unnecessary. You are going to be alright now. I have sent a note to Mycroft to let him know the horrors of this place, and that I am demanding to be your guardian.”

“He knows.” Enola said softly. “Miss Harrison let him know what I had done and I had been punished.”

“I refuse to believe that he knew how you had been punished, but will wait for his response until I reserve judgement.”

She gave him a small smile which he returned. She was lovely when she smiled, he wished she did it more.

“For now, you shall live with me. My land lady Mrs. Hudson lives in the basement, and there is plenty of room. You have shown yourself to be quite the detective, I think I could use your eyes and ears as my assistant. Of course, you will continue your schooling as well, I have an extensive library for you to work with as Mother did. I might even teach you the violin if you like, as I have no doubt Mother did not teach you music.”

“She did not.”

“Hmmm. Well, do you have any questions?”

There was a beat of silence before she smiled at him. A genuine bright smile that seemed to fill the carriage with sunlight.

“Can we get a dog?”

A smile tugged Sherlock’s lips. “Yes, I suppose we could.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Enola get slowly used to each other, there is pie, and an interesting game of Chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously love you guys so much! I have never met a fandom more warm and welcoming than this one! And since everyone has been so great, I was able to pump out chapter 2 in a hurry! There is some fun in this chapter, I also put in a Witcher reference from the Video Game since Henry plays Geralt in the Netflix version. There is also a very small, blink and you'll miss it Superman reference. If you spot them, let me know in the comments below!

Sherlock Holmes walked down the sidewalk at a quick, sure stride. The sky was gray and gloomy, it threatened to spit rain and maybe a little snow. But he paid it no mind, he was almost home anyway with his bundles. As he rounded the corner of Baker Street, he paused to see Enola’s bike parked against the wall. A smile tugged his lips as he went to the outer door to unlock it which made him smile more.

When she first came to him a scant month ago, there had been an…adjustment period. She had not been used to rules per se, and he was used to a very orderly life. There had been some bumps between them; nothing major really, bike tossed on the ground, entry door left unlocked, mud tracked in. Little things really that didn’t matter at the heart of it, but made life a lot easier. She had balked, of course she had; but in the end they had both learned to compromise and they were both happier for it.

He made his way up the 17 steps before opening the inner door to the apartment. He sighed softly as he walked in and set down his bundles to take off his coat.

“Enola! I’m home!”

Silence filled the air around him, making him frown.

“Enola? Are you studying?” He dropped his voice and made his way further into the living room. “You better be studying, it is study time after all.”

He looked over at the fire that crackled warmly, his slippers had been pushed near the fire in front of his chair to warm them as he liked. His eyes strayed over chair next to his where Enola would sit in the evenings with him. They would read together, play Chess, or sometimes just talk. Mrs. Lane had said that Enola was equal to him, and he was quickly discovering the woman was quite right.

He walked across the living room and glanced down at the small basket next to the study door. Brownie was not in it which was not odd per se, but that meant the tiny Cavalier King Charles Spaniel was with Enola. He opened the Study door and peered in, his desk was across from the door and to the left of that was Enola’s table where she would study. There were a stack of books strewn across it, but not the girl herself.

He growled under his breath softly. “Enola.”

He shut the study door and walked 3 steps to the next door which led to his bedroom. She didn’t often go into his room, but there had been occasion to borrow a shirt. Why he didn’t know, but she did love his shirts. But his room was empty as well.

He turned to the right and opened the door to the small bathroom and realized belatedly he should have knocked.

Not that Enola was in the bathroom, but still, basic manners.

He walked across the small bathroom and opened the door to her room. Again, realizing belatedly he should have knocked though that room was empty as well.

He stepped into her room, looking around for clues where she may have gone. He had gone in every room that the small apartment held. She was nowhere.

He growled again, and then glimpsed a small slip of paper sitting on her bed. He lifted it up and turned it over in his hands. ‘Slow Hot Fire, 1 hour’

Good God, had Enola gotten mixed in with their Mother and her lot? He was ready to dash out into the street when a scent caught his nose.

Cinnamon.

He opened the door that led out into the hall and walked back into the living room. In the corner, next to the fireplace was a small set of stairs that led to where the dumbwaiter was. Mrs. Montagrew was the housekeeper and cook that he shared with Mrs. Hudson, (every other day and alternating Saturdays). Her kitchen shed was near the roof so she used the dumbwaiter to send food down to him, Enola, and Mrs. Hudson. He lifted the small door and peered up the shaft, he could faintly hear talking.

“-loves pie ‘e does. Actually, ‘e likes all forms of sweets dunit ‘e? Never known a bloke that ‘as a sweet tooth like ‘im and looks like ‘e does.”

“He boxes, it’s how he stays in shape. And he says it helps him be a better Detective, he can study his opponent’s weaknesses and exploit them.”

He could hear the cackling laugh of Mrs. Montagrew as it filled the shaft.

“I know normally he likes Plum Pies best, but Mrs. Hudson couldn’t find any at the market, so Apple it is.”

“Men like all forms of sweets my dear. ‘e won’t care what kind of pie it is, long as ‘e can bury ‘is face into it.”

Sherlock himself snorted at the very veiled joke, but Enola in all her innocence didn’t get it. He might have to introduce sexual education to her as his mother seemed to have lacked in that department.

“I just want to give him something special, that I made. To thank him. You know I-I always adored him from afar. He was my hero though Mother told me not to have any. She always said that no one is completely infallible, so we should never look to others to be heroes, look in ourselves.

“Always good to rely on oneself, that’s how I keep me position ‘ere. And Master Sherlock said the same, ‘e liked his own company. And that’s all well and good, but ‘oo do ya talk to then? Get ideas from? Argue with to let out stuff bothering ya? Me husband and I, god rest ‘im, we was together a lot of years, and we was ‘appy. But sometimes, ya just need to pick a fight with someone. Keeps the innards from turning nasty it does.”

Enola’s soft, tinkling laugh filled the shaft which made Sherlock smile.

There was a small tinging sound, very faint but Enola yelped.

“Oh no! Sherlock will be home soon. I have to get back downstairs. Can you put the pie in?”

“Not a problem Miss! Best ‘urry! The Master gets in a foul mood ‘e does when the schedule is off. Roars like a bear!”

Sherlock pulled his head away from the dumbwaiter shaft and strolled down the stairs to wait for his wayward sister to appear. He was not angry though, in fact, oddly enough, he was in a teasing mood.

*********

Enola dashed down the small set of stairs, hoping against hope that she had beat Sherlock home, but when she opened the door he was standing in the middle of the living room. She swallowed as she shut the door and set Brownie down who immediately ran to Sherlock at full puppy speed jumping at his feet. He leaned down and scooped the puppy up before advancing on her.

“Where have you been Enola? It’s Study Time. You’re supposed to be…studying.”

“Umm, I was out.”

“Hmmm out. Walking Brownie I suppose?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Hmmmm.”

His blue eyes flicked across her face as he stroked the black and tan puppy’s ears. After a few seconds, he shifted the puppy to one hand and lifted his fingers to stroke across the apple of her cheek. “Flour very faint, as if someone tried to remove it with a dry cloth. Perhaps a sleeve.”

His eyes flicked down to the sleeve of her dress which had faint traces of the white powder.

“Hmmm.”

He kneeled down and wrapped his hand around her dainty ankle to look at her shoe. “Soot…perhaps from close contact with an oven.”

He stood and leaned close, burying his face into her hair. “And the scent of cinnamon.”

She had to think fast, he was too close though, filling her senses with the scent of him.

“I-I was having tea with Mrs. Montagrew. I was just taking a break.”

He pulled back. “I see.”

They looked at each other for a long moment before he finally grinned.

“Alright, then. You need to get back to your studies, I need to change. Let’s do this. Byron and Keats poets of our time, seemingly never have met or interacted as they had a fierce rivalry and it is said that Byron hated Keats. Do research and see if this was true, or was there something more. If you can figure out the truth, we will have Chess game after dinner with special rules.

She smiled brightly, scooped up the puppy, and ran to the study.

Her books were spread across the table, still opened to where she had been working before hitting on the idea to make a pie for Sherlock.

Enola set Brownie down and cleared off the History books she had been working with before scooping up the poetry books as well as biographies.

She sat down at her table while Brownie chewed on a soup bone under her table. Sherlock walked in dressed in his flannels and dressing gown.

“Where are your glasses?”

She looked up confused. “Huh?”

“Enola…you need your glasses.”

After she had come to live with Sherlock, they had quickly discovered that she was horribly near sighted and needed glasses to assist her. Not used to them, she often forgot to wear them.

Sherlock opened his desk drawer and pulled out the case that held them. He walked over and popped them on her nose. “Keep those on.”

She stuck out her tongue at his back. “When can I change?”

“When you find the answer.”

She groaned as he filled his pipe and pulled out a newspaper. “Good Detectives will allow things to distract them, Great Detectives are the distraction.”

She steeled herself, ready for anything that he decided to toss her way. She focused on the task at hand, sifting through the books she had and then cross checking with some other books.

She could hardly believe it when she actually found an answer.

“I think I got it Sherlock.”

“Think, or know?”

She lifted the book she had been reading and walked over to him. “They held a fierce rivalry, but Mary Shelley wrote to her cousin about Keats and Byron. She said while they fight like two fierce rivals and angry men, you can often see the gentleness of their companionship.”

“Pretty words, but where is the proof?”

Enola smiled prettily at him. “Deportment.” She turned the book around to show him a picture of Byron and Keats standing with Mary Shelley outside of her home.

He grabbed his magnifying glass and peered at the picture with it. There, very faintly, was Byron with his hand around Keats, fingers intertwined. “The way a person stands-“

“May disguise who they are.” She grinned broadly.

Sherlock tapped her nose with the magnifying glass playfully. “Very good Enola. Now you may change, and after dinner we will have Chess, it’s your turn to be black.”

She preened under his praise, but made a face at the Chess color as she believed it to be unlucky. She walked out the door, and once she was gone, he picked up Brownie and kissed her sweet face.

“That is our Enola, Brownie, yes she is. And she is on the verge of becoming great. Yes she is.”

*********

Once Enola had changed into her own nightdress and dressing gown, she made her way to the curtained off dining area and pulled it open. Sitting on the small table was a vase of Pink and White Roses. She gasped and walked over to the table, burying her face into the roses, inhaling the sweet scent.

She looked up to see Sherlock approaching. “Are these for me?”

“No, Mrs. Hudson.” He waited a beat before smiling. “Yes you nincompoop, they are for you. Who else would I get Roses for? Mycroft?”

“Please do not say his name before dinner, I would like to enjoy it.”

Neither Sherlock nor Enola were currently speaking to the oldest Holmes. When Sherlock had confronted him about Miss Harrison beating Enola, he had just shrugged and said he knew. Sherlock had never felt rage as he felt then at anyone.

He had slammed the photographs that had been taken of Enola’s body after the beating onto Mycroft’s desk. While not in color, it was enough to convey a point. He had demanded that Mycroft look at what had been done to their sister. How she would have scarring, how they had refused to treat her with nothing more than a drop of Laudanum. How she had bone bruising and torn tissue, how she would never be able to walk without a slight limp, possibly ever again. When Mycroft had said nothing Sherlock had regarded him coldly.

“Enola is in my care now. And this is probably as convenient of an opportunity as any to give you some advice Mycroft.”

“I don’t want any of your damned advice.”

“Then consider this a warning. Do not think for one moment that I will allow you to take Enola away from me.”

“Do you believe that she is so enamored with you that she would never cast you aside in favor of a safe and stable future?”

Sherlock gathered his things and moved to Mycroft’s front door. “No. But I do know this much. If you were to succeed in taking Enola away, you may be certain Brother, you would not live long enough to savor your victory. Good Afternoon.”

Enola knew nothing of course of what he had done, not that he wanted to hide anything from her, but he felt that it was a men’s conversation. Plus, he didn’t want to dive too deeply into why he felt the way he did.

The ringing of the bell from the dumbwaiter drew their attention, Enola smiled and rushed to fetch it. Her pink dressing coat flying behind her. Propriety would dictate that a young lady going about in her night clothes around a male was shameless. But Enola and Sherlock were comfortable with being half dressed around each other.

Enola brought the tray over to the table and set it down before removing the top. Mrs. Montagrew had sent down a roast chicken with whipped potatoes. Bright yellow corn sparkled with butter, and off to the side was a limp crusted Apple Pie.

Enola’s face fall. Her pie. Her lovely pie, did she do something wrong with it? She must not have pinched the crust tightly enough, Mrs. Montagrew had told her to make sure it was tight and now it was ruined.

To her surprise though, Sherlock bypassed the dinner and grabbed the pie. “I don’t think I have ever seen a more beautiful and delicious looking pie.”

Enola blinked at him. “W-What?”

“Hmmm yes, and I bet it tastes as good as it looks.”

He grabbed a fork, dug into the whole pie, and put a bite into his mouth. When he bit down, Enola heard the crunch of an apple and heat filled her cheeks. She obviously hadn’t let them soak long enough. But Sherlock seemed undeterred.

“This pie is amazing, it has the right amount of spice and apple. It’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Hmmm, yes, yes it is. Absolutely perfect.”

He felt his little white lie was worth it when tears sparkled in Enola’s eyes.

“Thank you, I made it.”

Sherlock took another bite and smiled. “If your career is a Detective ever falls through, you could open a Bake Shop. I would be a very dedicated patron.”

*********

Once dinner was completed, Enola cleared off the table and sent the dishes up downstairs to Mrs. Hudson since she had a large enough sink.

Once that was done, Sherlock put the chess board onto the small table between the two chairs.

“Alright, here are the rules we shall play by. For every move either one of us makes, we can ask the other a question. For every piece stolen, we can ask an intimate question. The person answering cannot lie or avoid the question, agreed?”

Enola blushed. “How intimate?”

“As intimate as the person questioning wants.”

Enola smiled and nodded her head. “Alright.”

Sherlock laid out the pieces. “Alright, White goes first.”

He moved his first pawn and looked at Enola. “Do you like the Country or City Life better?”

Enola blinked and shook her head at him. “That is how you start off?”

“What? It’s a good question.”

She laughed softly and smiled indulgently. “I used to always say Country was better, but I am finding city life quite exhilarating these days.”

Sherlock chuckled warmly. “Your turn.”

Enola moved her own pawn. “What's the strangest food you've tried?”

Sherlock smirked. “Bugs. Quite a delicacy in some places.”

Enola’s mouth dropped open. “Are you joking?”

“Nope, quite serious.”

“What did it taste like?”

He smirked. “Like bugs. Crunchy and grainy.”

“Oh my God. Gross.”

He laughed again and moved his pawn to take hers. “How far have you and the Viscount gone?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “What-What does that mean?”

“How far have you gone? Was there kissing? Touching?”

Enola sucked in a wheezy breath and let it out. “N-Nothing. None. We…for goodness sake’s Sherlock, he is a useless boy. I don’t go around kissing useless boys!”

“Good to know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t believe me kissing boys is interesting to you.”

“A good detective always gets all the facts.”

She moves a piece and looks at him. “When is the last time you laughed really, really hard?”

“This morning at you when you were trying to coax Brownie to walk in the rain. I don’t think I have ever seen a funnier sight than you trying to coax a small puppy out into the rain and acting like you were trying to haul a bull.”

“She is stubborn.”

“No idea where she gets that from.”

Sherlock moved another piece, close to stealing one of hers. “What food have you eaten too much of in your life?”

Enola smiles. “Jelly Roll Cake. When mother would have some made for tea, I would generally eat the whole lot.”

Sherlock made a mental note to ask Mrs. Hudson to make a Jelly Roll Cake for Enola for tomorrow’s tea.

Back and forth they moved their pieces. Stolen ones had her blushing, every time she would think that she had him, he would swoop another piece from nowhere and steal another.

Toward the end of the game, she finally got a piece of his and blurted out a question that she had been dying to ask since she moved in.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He went quiet for a long moment, Enola almost repeated the question but he finally gave the quiet answer. “Yes very much so. It’s a very recent development though.”

Enola for some reason, felt a pang of…jealously at the unknown woman that had captured her brother’s attention.

She cleared her throat. “You should bring her round for tea.”

“Hmmm.”

He moved another piece, capturing hers again, and leading to more blushing answers from Enola.

Toward the end of the game, it was almost over now, he was close to capturing her King. She moved a knight and he swooped in for the capture.

“Have you ever been in love Enola?”

“No, but I hope to be one day.”

A small, unreadable smile appeared on Sherlock’s face. “I hope that as well.”

She made a feeble attempt to win the game from nothing, but he easily checked her.

“And that is game.”

Enola sighed. “I told Lestrade that you liked Chess, as long as it was against a worthy opponent. I feel I am lacking.”

Sherlock smiled. “On the contrary, I consider you quite worthy opponent.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and then her forehead. “Loser cleans up.”

She sighed and stood up to start cleaning up the game as he walked toward his room.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes Enola?”

“When will you teach me the Violin?”

There was a beat of silence before he smirked at her. “Beat me at Chess first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to the poets Keats and Byron, I used them for my own gain lol. The truth is that they hated each other, when Keats died, Byron wrote to a friend and STILL besmirched Keat's name all over the place. Talk about not letting the dead rest in peace. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I am pretty proud of it. And I hope you guys liked Mrs. Montagrew. I felt like she would make an interesting character lol. Also, Enola's pie was based on a real life experience with my first time baking. Thankfully, her pie was edible. Mine....let's say we threw it out and had ice cream lol 
> 
> The questions asked during Chess, I got them from speed dating question/answer website. I feel that if I ever try it, I am properly armed now lol. 
> 
> Thanks for listening to my babbling! Kudos and a Comments are love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Enola have an awkward conversation, and Sherlock has a birthday and confesses something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear God! I can't leave this story alone! I don't know why, I have never been this obsessed with writing a fan fic before. But I am having a blast writing it, I hope you guys are having a blast reading it! Please leave comments and kudos!

The study was filled with companionable silence. Sherlock sat at his desk puffing his pipe and reading the newspaper while Enola sat at her table working on sums. Brownie who was quickly out stretching the tiny puppy phase and becoming a normal sized Cavalier, was sleeping in her basket at Enola’s feet.

When Sherlock had taken over Enola’s education, he had been pleased to know that her science was almost on par with his, (perhaps a little over his if he was being honest).

However, her Mathematics was sorely lacking. He imagined it was because while Science held drama and excitement, Mathematics was terribly repetitive. Plus, as he recalled, his Mother had hated Mathematics as well.

It amused Sherlock though when Enola tapped her bare feet against the floor in an irritated manner, more so when she growled.

“This is ridiculous.” She muttered.

“Problems Enola?”

“Yes, why do I have to learn this again?”

“Because, as I have told you, Mathematics and Science go hand in hand. If you want to be passionate about one, you must be passionate about the other. “

“Why can’t you just take me on cases with you? I don’t need to know Mathematics to help you on a case.”

“Enola. We have been over this, yes you do. You have to be able to measure trajectory, subtract for variables. All things that will make or break a case.”

She groaned and buried her head into her arms on top of the book.

“I am going to let you have your moment, and when you’re done, if you truly need help you will ask.”

He turned back to his paper trying to hide his grin from her. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the office dear?” Enola spit out continuing with her theatrics.

“Oh I think Scotland Yard can get along without me for a time, I am very much enjoying the show you are putting on.”

“I should have sold tickets.”

“Or, you could just get on with it and put the sums out of their misery, as well as yourself.”

“I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Doubtful, you have yet to beat me at Chess.”

Enola shot him a death glare, but did pick up her pencil and started working again.

Sherlock turned a page of the paper and frowned at an advertisement in the Personal’s.

“Enola, have you sent any coded messages out to mother again?”

“No, I haven’t had a reason to.”

“And you used the alias May Beatrice Posy?”

Enola looked up from her sums, looking confused. “Yes, why?”

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Dear Miss May Beatrice Posy, I have been informed that Hemlock has now over taken the garden, to which I suggest Sweet Basil and Coriander. The Yellow Pansies are lovely this time of year, and Red Tulips and Chrysanthemums are all the rage! 

Enola leapt from her seat and ran to his side, her arm sliding around his shoulders. “Oh my…uhhhh um. Hemlock is you, she must have heard I’m your ward now. Sweet Basil means good wishes, and Coriander means merit. Yellow Pansy means thinking of you, Red Tulip means declaring love. Chrysanthemum is what her alias is.

Sherlock slid his hand up over hers that was resting on his shoulder. “Clearly she approves of our situation.”

Enola laid her head on his shoulder. “I hope I get to see her again.”

Sherlock hummed softly. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.”

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He chuckled warmly and turned to kiss her nose.

“You need to finish your sums.”

“ARGH!”

*********

When Enola finally, **finally** , finished her sums she passed the paper for Sherlock to look over. He was pleased to see she had done them all correctly.

He handed her back the paper and cleared his throat. “So, now that Mathematics is complete, we need to move onto ah.” He cleared his throat again.

“What I mean is, did Mother ever discuss with you things of an intimate nature?” 

Enola frowned a little. What in the world was he on about?

“Um, I don’t understand.”

“I mean, has mother discussed…intimacy between a man and a woman with you?”

Enola felt herself turn 3 shades of red and purple before she sputtered out. “W-What?”

She leapt to her feet and tried to run for the door. “Enola stop! Listen I know this is not, uh normal circumstances, but I am…concerned.”

She turned to face him, her chest was heaving under her simple pretty blue dress, her curly brown hair was loose around her face, and her bare feet wiggled against the carpet.

“Concerned?”

“Yes…I….yes. You and the Viscount seem to be…close and I want to make sure you have….a proper education.”

Enola narrowed her eyes. “Sherlock I already told you, he is a useless boy.”

“But deduction would warrant that it shall not always remain so. I think for sanity’s sake we should at least hash this out.”

When she didn’t move he sighed. “Please.”

She took a breath and sat down at her table.

He cleared his throat and stood up. “So I um, ahem. You understand the mechanics of being with a young man?”

“I am well versed in how society views a woman that is considered ruined. After all, what you do in this world is a matter of no consequence. The question is what you can make people _believe_ you have done.”

“But it is more than that Enola. It’s not your virtue I am concerned with. It’s the men that could very well seek to take liberties with you.”

He walked over and tilted her chin up. “You could be hurt Enola, more than just being dunned an easy woman, you could be harmed, physically. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She blushes a little and tries to cast her eyes down. “No, don’t look down. This is serious.”

She lifted her lashes back up to stare into his blue eyes. He tapped her nose gently and released her, he walked over to his desk and lifted up a book. He turned and handed it to her.

She took the book and looked at the title. “Sexual Education of the Young Woman. Oh my.”

He nodded. “And I also have this.” He hands her another book which looks old, she rubs her hand over the title. “Kamasutra.”

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes, it is a book about ah…positions.”

She frowned at him and opened the book to a random page.

When she saw what was on the page, Enola yelped and slammed the book shut. “Good Grief!”

“I know, I know. But I want you to have a clear concept of not only intimacies, but yourself. And I want you to know what makes you happy. Men often…take the lead on such things. Women often are left…wanting.”

“Oh I see. Well um, uh thank you?”

“I have two more things and then we can end this awkwardness.”

He walked over to the desk and opened the drawer before handing her two wrapped items.

She unwrapped the cloth and there was a brooch and a hair pin. “Thank you?”

He chuckled and tapped the brooch to which a small blade appeared. “This is a knife brooch. If anyone makes a move against you that you don’t like, use it. Same with the hair pin, be careful when you put it in your hair though.”

She nodded and looked at Sherlock. “Thank you Sherlock, for everything.

He inclined his head gently at her. “And now, I believe you could do with some exercise. Why don’t you take a walk?”

Enola could not dart out of the Study fast enough

*********

Once she was in her room, Enola put the hair pin and brooch in her vanity table. She sat down on her bed and took a breath before opening Sexual Education of the Young Woman. She turned a few random pages before she came across a chapter called: The girl's obligation to society.

“Oh for…” She blew out a breath as she read about several fundamental obligations that a girl has to society. Among them were the acts of helping the mother, respecting and serving the father and becoming a good mother.

“Sherlock Holmes, for being a genius at times, you are complete dunder head.”

She set the book aside and opened Kamasutra to a random page, and found herself staring at a position called Lotus. It appeared a woman sat in a man’s lap with her legs around his waist.

Enola turned the book this way and that. “Can a man and a woman really do...that?”

She shut the book and set it down on the bed next to the other.

She really needed some fresh air.

She quickly changed into one her afternoon dresses, grabbed her parasol as it was almost November and you never knew what kind of weather to expect.

As she stepped out on to the stairs, Mrs. Hudson appeared at the bottom. “Oh Enola! I was just heading up to talk to Sherlock. It’s his birthday in a few days I wanted to see if he wanted something special.”

Enola froze. “It is?”

“Oh dear me yes, he hates having a fuss made over it, but it’s special this year as you’re here with him.”

Enola pressed herself against the stairwell so Mrs. Hudson could walk by. “When is his birthday exactly?”

“October 31st.”

Enola bit her lip. Two days away. Two days and Sherlock was just going to let it go by like it was nothing.

“He is such a dunder head.”

She darted down the stairs and ran out onto the sidewalk. If she only had 2 days, she needed to get him a gift. Something not too flashy, but not too dull. She would think of something.

She made her way down to the shops and looked into the windows. She still had some reward money, so she could afford something nice. Or several nice things.

As she passed by a window, she stopped and looked in.

She darted into the shop and pointed at the items that had caught her eye. The shop keeper let her look at them and she smiled. “They are perfect, can I get this one engraved?”

“Of course, it will be extra though.”

“That’s alright. How fast can you get it done?”

“Oh, I can have it done by tomorrow if you wish to put a rush job on it, again, extra.”

“Do you always swindle people who come in here, or just trying to do so because I am young lady?”

The man sputtered for a moment but grudgingly gave Enola a fair price for the items and the engraving. He told her to be back at 3:00pm the next day for pick up.

Once she was done with that, she swung by the Pall Mall Gazette to drop an advertisement in the personals. It was a quick message that simply said:

Thank you my Chrysanthemum. Hemlock has indeed over taken the garden, and currently the Cherry Blossoms are blooming over it, though I was unawares. I have means to rectify it, but am still put out. My yellow pansies are blooming beautifully. May Beatrice Posy

*********

October 31st dawned with a gloomy cloud cover, but for Enola, the sun could have been sparkling through the windows with how good she felt. It was Sherlock’s birthday and between Mrs. Hudson and herself, it was going to be the best day.

She hopped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She took a quick bath and changed into a new dress she bought when she went out to pick up Sherlock’s gift. It was soft blue dress that had thin stripes of brown. Sherlock complimented her on a dress that she had that looked similar, he said the brown and blue brought out her eyes.

Once she was dressed, she went up to the kitchen shed to help Mrs. Montagrew with breakfast. It was Sherlock’s favorite meal, and after some prodding, she had managed to get a list of his favorite foods.

She took the tray down to their apartment. She went to his bedroom door and knocked gently, there was a grunt and a rough voiced ‘Come in!’

Enola pushed the door opened and smiled at her Sherlock, he was still in bed looking confused, his curly hair was tousled everywhere.

“What in the world?”

“Happy Birthday!”

She walked over with the tray and set it across his lap. “It’s breakfast in bed!

He looked down at the plate, covered with Bacon, Sausages, Eggs, Beans, Tomatoes, Mushrooms, and Fried Bread completed with a cup of coffee with brown sauce and ketchup.

“Enola…this is amazing. Did you do this?”

“I helped Mrs. Montagrew.”

“But did you arrange this?”

She blushed a little. “Yes.”

“For my birthday?”

She nodded and looked at him. He shifted the tray and pulled her into his lap. “Thank you.” His lips pressed against her cheek in a sweet kiss.

She laughed softly. “It’s not even started yet. Eat and get dressed, I have more surprises!”

As she got to her feet, he tugged on a ribbon that was positioned at her hip. “I like your dress.”

She smiled at him again and left the room.

Once Sherlock ate breakfast and dressed. Enola took him out for a walk, there was a painter in the park and she paid to get Sherlock’s portrait drawn. They also stopped to get some lemon ices, before making their way back to have Tea Time with Mrs. Hudson. When they walked in, Sherlock’s favorite Tea Time snacks were there, as well as Jelly Roll Cake for Enola. There were also wrapped gifts ready for him to open.

He opened Mrs. Hudson’s gift first, she had given him a silver tin for his tobacco. He turned it over in his hands and gave his land lady a kiss on the cheek which made her giggle.

Enola bit her lip as she handed him his two wrapped packages. The first was a Crescent Filler Pen, one of the latest pens created, it would self-fill itself held in a pretty box. The second was the one that Enola was most nervous about. She watched as her brother slowly unwrapped the blue wrapping paper.

What was revealed made Sherlock catch his breath.

It was an Ornate Pocket Watch, it shimmered in the gas light and on the back had an engraving: _For Sherlock Loyal, Brave & True Love, Enola_

Sherlock sat stock still just staring at the little ticking watch.

Enola bit her lip. “D-Do you like it?”

He looked up at her, his blue eyes shining. “It is the most magnificent gift I have ever received and I will treasure it forever.”

He grabbed her arm and tugged her over to him before pressing his lips against her forehead. Enola felt tears slipping down her cheeks, so very happy that she had pleased him so.

*********

That night, they played their normal game of Chess. But it felt different to Enola, there was some sort of electricity in the air. Something she couldn’t place her finger on. Sherlock didn’t seem to be affected by it, he was calm as always.

She stole a piece from him and smiled a little. “I wonder if being a woman is equated to Chess.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well you know, when Mycroft was my guardian, I felt like Chess piece in a game being played against my will. Like someone was ready to grab my skirts and drag me around the board.”

Sherlock stole a piece from her. “If a wise man had been around, I am sure he would have said that you had better master the rules of the game until you play it better than they can.”

“Would this wise man recommend I find a husband to play it for me?

Sherlock moved another piece and met her eyes, his stare was intense. “He would probably say find one to play it with you, not for you.”

Enola flushed, but didn’t move her eyes. “Would he?”

“Yes.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she moved another piece. “I’m surprised Mycroft didn’t send word to wish you a Happy Birthday, even if he is angry there is still manners.”

“I imagine it has to do less with anger and more of fear.”

“I’m sorry?”

“After you became my Ward, I paid a call to Mycroft. We discussed you.”

“Me? What about me?”

“We discussed what had been done to you and what would happen if he tried to take you away again.”

Enola swallowed. “Sherlock, what precisely did you say to him?”

Sherlock looked down for a moment and then moved his smoldering gaze back to her. “I told him he could not have you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does some exploring and learning. And get's help from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 Comments, 28 Kudos, 8 Bookmarks, and 361 Hits to this story. I wish I could give hugs and kisses to every single one of you that are visiting this story and enjoying it so very much! Again, I have never felt so much love and affection from a fandom. You guys are so amazing!  
> This chapter is just a filler chapter really, it popped up out of nowhere honestly lol, I had a completely different idea, but the characters said otherwise. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it though!

Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest detective had faced many things, dangerous things. Things that often kept him up at night. But never had he undertaken such a dangerous task as following Enola around town without her knowing.

He was doing this for a reason, a strange reason, but a reason nonetheless.

Enola hid from him. Not physically, but mentally.

He thought his birthday admission would make her realize he was being sincere, but she seemed to still hold him at arm’s length.

So today, he gave her the day off from studying and being around the house. Instead, he told her to take her pin money, go out and have fun.

She had seemed suspicious at first, but in the end, scooted off

Sherlock had quickly changed into his common loafer disguise. He would have donned a more elaborate disguise, but he had not the time. He darted down the stairs almost crashing into Mrs. Hudson. She took one look at his attire and shook her head.

Sherlock made his way down the street, keeping his eyes out for Enola. He finally spotted her ducking into Edith’s tea shop. He knew better than to go in through the main entrance, Edith would probably set the whole shop on him. Instead he cut around to the back and slunk against the building, trying his hardest to blend in with the background. He could hear Enola and Edith speaking faintly.

“-can’t take this from you Enola.”

“You can and you will Edith. It’s a gift.”

“I get along just fine on my own. And I heard you are getting along alright as well, Sherlock is your guardian now.”

“Yes. Heard you threatened him with a teapot.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t toss it at his head first time he spoke. Threatening to tell Mycroft about my book selection, and his attitude in general.”

There was a clang of what sounded like said teapot being put down. “But, I imagine living with you, some of that attitude has worn off.”

“I would like to think he has much improved.”

“Good, he needs to not walk around with a stick up his arse.”

“I assure you it has been slightly removed.”

Enola didn’t stay at Edith’s long. When he dared peek in the window, he saw a flash of paper slip from Enola’s hand to Edith’s. With raised eyebrows, he realized Enola had given her money.

“Give Mother my best.”

“I will when I see her next.”

Enola stepped out the back holding a bundle in her arms. She gave him a brief glance, but quickly moved along obviously not recognizing him.

He fell into step behind her, making sure to keep himself concealed.

She paused at a small house and tapped on the door. “Hello?”

Why was she going into a strange house alone?

He moved closer to the window and peeked in.

Enola was standing in a small room, surrounded by dirty faced children as she opened the bundle. A young woman close to Enola’s age stood by the fire, stirring a large pot.

There was no window panes, so Sherlock could hear everything clear as a bell.

“I brought some bread, from my friend Edith. She owns a tea shop and always has leftovers.

“I appreciate it Mrs. Holmes.”

“Enola please, Bridget. How are you faring?”

“I’m getting along alright. Since they passed that reform bill, me husband thinks we can live on the farm again. He has some standing now so might help, and I won’t have to walk the streets no more.”

“That is so wonderful Bridget! Just remember in the meantime, my friend Edith offered a position at her Tea Shop. And with the reform bill, they are going to open a public school, it may not be the best education, but it will be something.”

“I will think have to talk to me husband.”

“Do, and just send word if you need anything.”

“Thank you Mrs. Holmes.”

Enola stepped out of house just as Sherlock ducked into the alley.

What was going on?

*********

Sherlock spent the rest of the morning following Enola around. She stopped by locations to talk to people and give them Edith’s bread, as well as give them advice.

And through it all, Sherlock realized something.

Enola was good. All the other things added up to that whole: Kind and self-effacing and unselfish and brave, she was good through and through.

She finally seemed to complete her morning with a stop in the park to feed the pigeons.

He walked over to where she sat on the bench and sat down next to her.

She jumped and turned to look at him. “Sherlock, what are you doing here?”

“I saw you here.”

“You saw-“ She peered around him and her eyes shot open. “Have you been following me?!”

“Enola I had to. You keep shutting me out, keeping me at arm’s length. I-“

“There is a very good reason for that Sherlock Holmes! And now you have just proven to me as to why this was a good idea.”

She rose from the bench and started to run.

Sherlock rose. “Enola wait!”

But even in a dress, she was faster than him.

With a growl of annoyance, he sat back down on the bench and rubbed his face. He needed answers, and he didn’t get any from Enola.

That only left one person to talk to.

And he just hoped she wouldn’t toss a teapot at his head.

*********

To say Edith was happy to see him was a gross understatement. She stormed to the back with him chasing her again.

“Whatever you want Sherlock Holmes, I have no information to anything.”

“On the contrary, you do. Enola.”

Edith looked at him and shook her head. “You know, I retract my earlier statement. You apparently never miss small things, but you miss the big things. Do you have any sense of how much Enola loves and adores you?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“No, I imagine it’s that ostrich tendency again.”

She slammed her teapot down again so hard that the lid jangled.

“I told you before that she needs you. She needs you to be her base, her anchor.”

“Our mother-“

“Your mother could never be what that child truly needed. I told you before Eudoria is on her own path, and has been for a good many years. She never neglected Enola, but I imagine her head was only half there when it came to her. Which is why your brother thinks she is such a wild thing, but the truth is, Enola is untethered.”

When Sherlock said nothing, Edith pressed on.

“When you rescued her from school, listened to her, **heard** her by the way, she thought that it would be a new start for the two of you. But you quickly launched into Mycroft Jr. with studies and rules. When really, she wanted **her** Sherlock, the one she knew and loved.”

Sherlock still said nothing, and Edith shot him a death glare.

“And now, you are giving her the indication that you are going to pawn her off onto the Viscount, or some other man.”

Sherlock’s mouth dropped open. “I would never!”

“With your sex talks and what have you, she is picking up on that sense Mr. Holmes.”

“I just want her to be safe; and I told her what I told Mycroft on my birthday.”

“And basically told her that she was just chattel to you. Ready to move her onto the next gentleman that would have her, **and** by giving her advice on a scenario that isn’t even in play. She doesn’t want to be any other man, but you. She wants you to teach her your craft, which you are slowing her down by telling her she needs to learn unnecessary things.”

“I….” He took a breath. “I go out on some very dangerous jobs. I just want her safe.”

“Then you are teaching her the wrong things. Instead of math, brush up on her stick fighting, pugilism, and sword fighting techniques. Also her Martial Arts, she is rusty in that as well.”

He still said nothing and Edith grabbed some cake. “Your mother was teaching her all of that you know? Like she was preparing Enola to be in your custody, wanting you to step up and be the man you needed to be. Maybe she was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time that woman has been wrong I am sad to say.”

“I'm scared I can’t be what she needs.”

She grabbed her tray and glared at him. “Oh you can, but it’s going to be hard work. And for all your strengths, you don’t like things when they are hard, it’s easier when the solution is right in front of you.”

She stormed by him and stopped. “Oh one more thing. Stop using Chess as a gatekeeper from the Violin. She wants to learn it desperately, and just because you’re worried she will be better than you is no reason to slow her down. Good Afternoon Mr. Holmes.” 

*********

Sherlock thought long and hard as he walked home. There was a fair distance between Baker Street and Edith’s shop.

When he got home, Mrs. Hudson was lying in wait for him.

“Miss Enola came home very distressed Mr. Holmes. I put her to bed with a cool compress.”

“I know Mrs. Hudson, and I think I know what causes her distress. I will look in on her.”

She nodded and he went upstairs.

Knowing what caused Enola’s distress didn’t make it any easier for him to face. She thought he wanted to shove her off onto someone else, and didn’t trust he wouldn’t send her away under one pretext or another. 

When in reality, he very much wanted to Enola by his side for as long as he could. Forever would be his preference. And he shouldn’t want that, he should want her to grow into a lovely young woman and get married. Not be stuck with a perennial bachelor such as himself working a strange occupation.”

Thinking of all of that, when he got to her door and tapped gently. There was a pause before Enola said come in.

He stepped in and shut the door before walking to her bed. “Mrs. Hudson said you were ill. And I know why you are ill, and I want to apologize to you. I realize that I have put a wall between us, and that’s why you hold me at arm’s length.” He slid into the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms.

“I want to change that Enola. So the next case I get, no matter what it is, you will go out with me.”

There was a beat of silence and then she softly said. “You promise?”

“Yes, I promise. And we are going to scale back the studies. You have plenty of knowledge to assist you on a case. And, I am going to teach you the Violin.”

She shifted to try and look at him, but he held her fast. “But, why now?”

“Because I almost got bashed in the face with a teapot again.”

She laughed softly. “You went and saw Edith?”

“I did. She gave me quite the earful about how rotten and Mycroft-like I am being. And on my walk home, I realized she was right. I have been wanting to protect you, when the reality is, you can protect yourself just fine. Clearly by the work you are doing.”

She sighed softly. “I have been working with Lady Caroline, the Marchioness of Basilwether. She wants me to reach out to people as she started some social programs for the poor people.”

He pulled her closer and kissed her head. “Why do they call you Mrs. Holmes?”

“It’s safer if they think I am married. I am less likely to be accosted that way.”

“Smart.”

There was a sweet silence between them now as Sherlock held Enola gently.

When she finally broke the silence, it was with an almost desperate question.

“Does this mean you are not going to let me go?”

He pressed his lips to her forehead and held them there for a long moment.

“I shall never let you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Now we are getting somewhere! Sherlock and Enola are now going to be reaching a jumping off point in their relationship, and I am super excited for the next chapter! Comments and Kudos are love!


	5. Author's Note

Hey all! I am sorry for lack of update, my mom died on the 13th and needless to say, I have not felt like writing. I am so sorry to leave you all hanging, and I promise to get it up as soon as I can get my head on straight. 

Thank you all for being so kind.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enola hones her detective skills, and Sherlock gives her a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here is another chapter! Again, to anyone that has read this story, your involvement has made me feel so good!! I also very much appreciate your kind words and thoughts. My mom was an amazing woman, and supported my writing, (fan fiction and otherwise), with a fervor like no other. The woman created a fanfiction account so she could read my mature stuff. And she wouldn’t want me to sit around and be depressed over her, she would want me to celebrate my gift and remember her enjoying my writing. So I dedicate this chapter to not only my mom, but all the mothers and daughters out there!

Enola tumbled to the ground with a grunt. “Ow.”

Sherlock shifted his stance after punching Enola in the face.

“You attacked when you should have blocked.”

Enola groaned as she got to her feet. “I slipped.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Right. You slipped. As a result of me punching you in the face.”

Enola shook her head, trying to get her ears to stop ringing. “I was already slipping when you happened to punch me in the face. The two of those are not related.”

“Edith was right, you are rusty.”

“You are attacking me. I wanted to sit and read before bed!”

“Hmm.” Sherlock took another step forward and threw another punch, knocking her to the ground again. “You dropped your guard.”

She flipped over, (surprisingly well in a night dress), grabbed his leg with her hands, wrapped her legs around his leg and flipped over. He fell down onto the floor and groaned softly. “Ow.”

Enola stood up and smiled at him, her brown curls flying everywhere. “You rushed when you should have calculated. Hmmm.”

She winked at him and walked away.

*********

The next morning, Enola got up and looked in the mirror. A small bruise on her chin, but other than that, she was fine. Sherlock had been smart though to get the drop on her when she wasn’t paying proper attention. But who would have thought he would come at her when she was sitting next to the fire trying to read!

She pulled on her housecoat and stepped into the hall. It was oddly quiet, Sherlock was unusually up exercising in his room.

She could always hear the grunts when she went into the bath. But just silence.

She went to the door and knocked gently. “Sherlock, are you awake? Surely you are not sulking over my corkscrew! Sherlock?”

She knocked again and gently pushed the door open. “Sherlock?”

The room was empty, bed neatly made, no Sherlock in sight.

On the bed though was a note wrapped in blue ribbon with her name written on it in Sherlock’s neat handwriting.

She went to the bed and untied the ribbon, tucking it into her pocket before opening the letter.

_Enola,_

_Clearly, your fighting skills are on par with my own, though a little rusty, you seem to have basic knowledge._

_However, I want to see if your deduction skills are still as good as ever. Or was the Viscount mystery solved by luck more than skill?_

_So, I have set up a series of clues for you to follow._

_Should you solve them correctly, it will lead to a reward._

_Where I will be waiting._

_Good Luck,_ _Sherlock_

Enola frowned at the letter. How was she supposed to solve a series of clues when he didn’t leave her anything to go on? Unless…

She pulled the ribbon from her pocket and looked at the ribbon. There didn’t appear to be any writing on it, and when she held it up to the light, there was nothing revealed.

She blew out a breath and turned.

The door was closed.

She had left it open when she walked in. How did she not notice it close?

She went to the door and wrenched it open. A strand of blue ribbon was hanging from the door with a small scrap of paper that had written on it:

_A Good Detective is observant. Follow the ribbon._

The ribbon wound from the note down the hall. Enola lifted it into her hand and followed it down the hall back to her room. The ribbon led to her armoire where it was pinned to a dress.

“Oh gee Sherlock, do you want me to get dressed and go somewhere? You don’t say.”

Nincompoop.

She quickly got dressed, and grabbed her small satchel. Since there wasn’t a ribbon to follow any more, she walked into the living room and started looking around.

Nothing looked amiss.

Enola shut her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out. She opened her eyes again.

“Alright. Sherlock Holmes is the world’s greatest detective. He wants me to be his equal, so I have to think like Sherlock.”

Enola took another breath and looked around the room. Whatever he did, he wouldn’t make it obvious.

As she moved around the room, she stopped at the door and frowned. “Dust?”

She kneeled down and touched it. “Coal dust. Coal dust…fireplace!”

She went over the fireplace and kneeled down peering into the chimney. It was pitch black, so she slid her hand into the chimney feeling around until she touched a piece of silky ribbon.

Enola yanked the ribbon and a piece of paper tumbled into the fireplace.

She scooped it up into her hand and opened it.

_Ah so you solved the first puzzle. A Good Detective tries to notice things that are out of place, or perhaps make you wonder why something would be in one place and not the other._

_Your next clue is in a place you have been before, but wouldn’t visit on a regular basis._

_If you get stuck, Mrs. Hudson has a hint, for you always want to rely on outside sources to get an answer._

A place she would go to, but not on a regular basis. Well, what-

Enola just blew out a breath and opened the door. 

*********

Mrs. Hudson was at the bottom of the stairs, a basket of vegetables in her hands. She smiled at Enola and shifted the basket. 

Enola rushed down the stairs. “Um, may I help you with that Mrs. Hudson?” 

“Oh yes, thank you.” She handed the basket to Enola and opened the door. “Would you like to have a cup of tea?” 

“Yes please!” 

Enola set the basket on the work table and then sat down at the small table in the corner as Mrs. Hudson bustled around the stove. 

“Enola, could you please get another piece of wood to tuck into the stove?” 

“Of course.” Enola stood up and got a chunk of wood, tucking it into the stove and closing the door. 

Something was different about Mrs. Hudson. She seemed the same, but there was something...off. 

Enola started taking stock as Mrs. Hudson set the kettle on. 

Hair, done up in a bun, nothing weird there. 

Same cheery smile she always had. 

Dress....Enola had never seen that color dress before. A bright blue, almost the same color as….

“Mrs. Hudson?” 

“Yes my dear?” 

“Is that a new dress?” 

“Why yes it is. A gift from Sherlock.” 

“A gift?”

“Yes, delivered from Madam Chrispe’s shop last night.”

Madam Chrispe? Where had she heard that name before? Chrispe….the dress shop! 

Enola stood up fast. “Um, I’m afraid I can’t stay for tea! I remembered an appointment I have to attend.” 

“Well if you’re sure...would you like the note that Sherlock left for you first?” 

“I don’t have much time so I-note?” 

Mrs. Hudson turned and held out a folded piece of paper. 

Enola smiled and took it before walking out the door. 

As she walked, she unfolded it and read the words. 

_Should you have gotten this message, it means you solved the next puzzle. I am worried that you may be solving these a little too fast and get to the end before the time is right. So, the next puzzle is made to slow you down a little._

_I shall not tell you what it is, only that there are two stages involved._

_I will give you one hint though. Often when you are a detective, you don’t seek out answers but rather the truth. And knowing the truth may not bring justice or a sense of vengeance, but it is vitally important to many people._

Enola pondered that as she walked. Was he setting her up for something? Or was he planning on making her look stupid? 

No, this is Sherlock Holmes. He never did anything without a purpose. 

She made her way down the streets, she could hail a hackney, but she enjoyed the walking. Subtly looking over her shoulder, ready to spot Sherlock creeping behind her. 

But she saw nothing. 

When she finally arrived at the dress shop, she hesitated for a moment before stepping in. The last time she had seen Madam Chrispe it had been to earn Mycroft’s reward. She couldn’t really hold a grudge against the good woman. She ran a semi respectable dress shop, and a slum of a lodging house. Money didn’t grow on trees. 

Madam Chrispe seemed to feel the same way as when she saw Enola, her face paled. 

“Miss Holmes. I uh...wasn’t expecting to see you ever again.” 

“Well I...ahem. Was sent here by my brother. He said there was something for me here.” 

Madam Chrispe’s eyes went as big as tea saucers. 

“Sherlock Holmes sent you here? But I-I…OH!” 

She stepped behind the counter and leaned down. “I received a note this morning...it didn’t make any sense. Ah here it is.” She held it out to Enola. 

Enola took it feeling puzzled. Once she opened the note she rolled her eyes before smiling. 

“Thank you Madam. Sorry for dropping in on you like this.” 

“No, no not at all. I uh, apologize to you for everything.” 

Enola smiled. “No apology needed. We must do what we must do sometimes. Good Afternoon.” 

She stepped out onto the street and looked at the note in her hand. 

_In order to move forward, we must forgive the past. If you give forth, you are beginning to forgive._

Enola smiled and then walked down the street to the Pall Mall Gazette and put an advertisement in the paper, it simply said: 

ChrysanthEmum, my Purple Hyacinth has been delivered to you. For a long time, I planted Petunias, which caused my garden to become quite dower. With the addition of Hemlock, I think I can help it grow into something better. ~E 

She felt a relief of sorts flow through her. Her brother was right, forgiveness was better. 

She stepped out of the office and was almost knocked down by a boy. 

“Hey now, watch it!” 

The boy turned to her and smiled. “Miss Holmes! I was to bring a message to you.” 

“For me?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He offered her another note and she smiled before pressing some coins into his hand. 

_So I see you are taking my lessons to heart. I am proud of you. Now that you have completed that fun mystery, on to the next one._

_Mrs. Hudson gave you a red herring. Which when people are overly helpful, they are usually doing so, or just lying. Perhaps you should try again._

Enola frowned. Mrs. Hudson...no. But the exchange had been strange. Something about it had felt off. What had it been? 

Enola replayed the exchange in her mind as she walked back to Baker street. 

When she was half way there, it hit her. 

Could you please get another piece of wood to tuck into the stove?

Enola stopped short. A piece of wood. In a coal burning stove. 

She had done it without even thinking! 

She ran the rest of the way back to the house, wishing for her bike. 

When she got back, she took a deep breath before knocking on Mrs. Hudson’s door. 

The door opened a minute later, Mrs. Hudson gave her a smile. “Welcome back, may I offer you some tea?” 

Enola shook her head and waited for Mrs. Hudson to allow her in before she spoke. 

“You have a coal burning stove. Why would you need wood?” 

“Why, it takes coal and wood.” 

“No it doesn’t, your stove is like Mrs. Montagrew’s upstairs, coal. The fireplaces, coal dust.” 

Enola marched over to the wood box and started shuffling through it. It only took a few pieces to be moved before she found the note. She got to her feet and smiled at Mrs. Hudson who clapped her hands. 

“Well done! He was a little worried you wouldn’t catch on, and I wasn’t sure how to hint.” 

Enola laughed softly and opened the note. 

_As Mrs. Hudson said, I was worried you wouldn’t get this one. But clearly, you and I are matched for wits._

_So now, for the next steps. No mystery here as I have tormented you long enough. There is a gift in our apartment for you along with where to meet me._

_Love, Sherlock_

*********

Once Enola got upstairs, she went into her room and gasped. Spread out on her bed was a blue dress. It was reminiscent of what the Ladies of Ton were currently wearing. The neck dipped down, giving anyone a clear view of her creamy breasts, (should anyone look). The sleeves dipped just to her elbows and had a bit of lace, there was a set of heels to go with the dress. 

She stepped into the bath and made herself look presentable before stepping back into the room pulling on her stockings and garters and then the heels. There was a fan and gloves; and when she lifted the fan, two pieces of paper fluttered to the bed. 

She frowned as she lifted them and then gasped. 

London Symphony Orchestra. 

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. She grabbed her small bag, tucked the tickets in and then grabbed the fan. 

When she stepped outside, snow had started to fall. She looked up at the night sky for a moment before getting ready to start her path. But she stopped short and almost fainted. Sherlock stood before her, dressed in an evening tailcoat with a waistcoat that matched her dress. A top hat was held in his own gloved hand where he bowed to her politely. 

He pulled out the pocket watch she had gotten him for his birthday. 

“Miss Holmes, the hour grows late. I promised you a reward, and we have to be there by five o’clock. So we will have to hurry.”

He gestured to the waiting carriage before helping her in and settling into the seat. 

She could only stare at him in complete shock before she finally found her tongue. 

“Sherlock what in the world is going on?” 

He said nothing for a moment before he finally spoke. 

“I have drunk champagne with kings and queens, politicians have praised my name. For years and years, I chased their cheers, always needing more. But then you landed in my lap. My funny, sweet, strong Enola. And I realized that what I was chasing was not what I truly wanted. I was chasing that praise because I never got it from father, so when I saw you, what had happened to you. I realized, I never wanted another person to chase after a ghost. And if I had not stopped being a fool, you would have done just that. Chased yourself into circles, all to get my praise. And I wasn’t going to let that happen, not to my Lady.” 

“So now, we are going to listen to some lovely music and when we are done with that, I am going to teach you the violin.” 

“Really? You mean it?” 

“Yes Enola, I mean it.” 

She wrapped her arm around his and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

*********

The concert had been amazing. The playlist had been quite enjoyable; Cantabile in D major op 17 by Paganini, Romance in A major op 94 by Schumann, Sonata in A major by Paganini, and ending with Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky. 

Enola’s head had been full of music when they stepped out of the building, humming and skidding across the snow until Sherlock had taken her into his arms and waltzed her around for a moment as she laughed, the snow still falling into her hair, the stars shining in her eyes. 

The moment had been lost though when one of the Orchestra members had approached them. He had seen Sherlock and his young Lady and noticed that they seemed to enjoy the show. He knew that Mr. Holmes was an amazing Violin player, so perhaps, he would like to play something. 

Sherlock had been surprised, but agreeable. He took the violin and thought for a moment before sliding the bow across the strings. “Summer, Concerto No.2 in G Minor, by Vivaldi.” 

He took another breath and started to play. 

Enola was spellbound. 

Sherlock’s face transformed with the emotion of the music, like a man possessed. The turbulence of summer, the flow of that into Autumn at the end, the break neck speed he had been moving at until she came into his life. 

Her dress, her corset, her own skin felt too tight against her. Her gloved fingers curled into fists, almost clutching herself so she wouldn’t fly apart as Sherlock played with a passion she had never seen before. 

When he finally ended the song, she was gasping. The small crowd applauded him and he handed the violin back to the orchestra member. 

He walked over to her, his voice was husky when he spoke her name. 

She looked up at him trembling, could he not feel the tingling of her skin? Was he not flying apart as well? 

They stared at each other for a good 10 seconds before they met in the middle and blended their lips together in a heated kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I am so sorry to leave it on a cliff hanger like this, I just couldn't help myself!! Please forgive me! Also check out Summer, Concerto No.2 in G Minor, by Vivaldi. I don’t know if it will affect you the same way it affected myself and Enola, but it’s fun to listen to! 
> 
> Now that I am getting back into this, (as I can’t live in limbo forever), I want to try and slow down the flow of the story so it's not over so fast. BUT! At the same time, I hate leaving you guys with no chapter update lol. Any thoughts on that would be great! Maybe once a week on a certain day?
> 
> Final note, this chapter is heavily inspired from the song From Now On off The Greatest Showman soundtrack, and I snuck some lyrics in too! I thought very much of Sherlock when I was listening to it and where this story ends up is what I got from the song.
> 
> Comments and Kudos please!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Enola wake up the next morning. 
> 
> Also, a case falls in their lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am backish. I don't know, I am adoring everyone's love and support, comments and kudos. You guys are amazing! But I find myself in a creative slump lately. So please forgive me if this chapter isn't all you hoped it would be, I tried hard!

Essie was exhausted. 

The Lord and Lady had decided to throw a grand party. She wasn’t sure as to why, but that wasn’t her business really. All she knew is that she was exhausted. 

She had been scrubbing the floor, the pans, the...everything really. And now she was dragging her exhausted body home. Normally she would just stay with the other scullery maid Mary, but tonight she was needed at home as her Mam was ailing. 

So it was just her and her buckets, walking down the cobblestone street. It was late, two or three in the morning. So the silence around here was very loud, just her own lonely foot falls against the cobblestone. 

Until they weren’t. 

She didn’t notice it at first, a small thing really, foot falls behind her as she walked. So slow and quiet. 

Almost normal. 

But not normal. 

Sadly, she started to run. 

Her washer buckets banged against her shins as she ran. 

The foot falls behind her didn’t get any faster, actually they slowed. 

As she ran, she felt hope in her chest, if she could make it to the end of the block, she would be safe. Her cousin lived right around the corner. 

But a figure suddenly appeared in front of her, causing her to shriek and turn into a dark alley. 

She made it almost to the end of the alley when a voice whispered her name. She stopped and turned. 

“Who are you?!” 

There was no answer, but a Cheroot blazed, illuminating a man’s face. 

His dark eyes turned to her as the light disappeared, and a scream filled the alleyway.   
  


* * *

  
Enola opened her eyes the next morning to sunlight streaming into her room. 

Except, her windows never faced the sun. 

And she was pretty sure there was never anyone else with her in her bed. 

Which, would lead to a deduction that she was not in her bed, but someone else’s. 

The someone being Sherlock. 

Her eyes flew open as she quickly took stock in the situation. 

She was naked, very very naked. 

With the exception of a large hand covering her breast, and Sherlock’s puffs of breath against the back of her neck. 

Oh dear Lord, what did she do last night? 

They had kissed, in front of the Orchestra House. 

Passionately. 

They had kissed in the carriage home. Equally passionately. And he had undone the front buttons of her dress and tugged on the laces of her corset so he could cup her breasts. Which had made her moan loudly. 

And then when they had gotten home. 

They had…in the bed...more than once. 

She had quickly learned that the book Sherlock gave her did not lie, a man and woman **could** do those things, and more. 

She only had brief memories, flashes really. 

Her legs pressed against Sherlock’s hips. 

Her sitting in his lap, their foreheads pressed together as their breaths fanned each other’s faces. 

The last memory made her flush, not for the pleasure. But the simplicity. 

Her curled around him, head pressed against his chest, their fingers carding each other’s hair and he had very gently said, ‘I love you Enola. So much.’ 

She wanted to sob and scream. Now she had all the answers. Now there might be a baby. A baby? What in the world would she do with a baby? 

She had behaved like a wanton slut so it was what she deserved really. 

There was nothing for it, she would have to leave. That was all. She-

“You’re thinking too loud,” Sherlock mutters into her shoulder. “Stop it.”

Enola felt some tension leave her body, and rolled her eyes. “How can you even tell? It’s a silent activity.”

“Because, like, you know how gears squeak? Well, your gears squeak.” Sherlock shimmies up the bed and sits halfway up, supporting himself with one elbow. “You breathe in a certain way, like you’re afraid you’re going to run out of air if you don’t take it all in fast enough.”

Enola turns over and faces him. Sherlock looks sleepy and rumpled, hair curling up around the edges. “That is possibly one of the most absurd things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. You’re just fixated on me. Admit it.”

Sherlock shrugs with his available shoulder. “Yes.”

Enola’s mouth fell open. “What?” 

“Yes Enola, I am fixated on you. You are the most headstrong, mule headed woman I have ever met. Of **course** I am fixated on you, how can I not be?” 

“But, But, it’s improper! You are my brother.” 

He turned a little to face her more, and pulled her closer to his side. “Enola, I am so very tired of trying to pretend that I am not in love with you in a very unholy way. You are the best thing, the **very** best thing, that has ever happened to me. And perhaps, if we had been raised together properly, I wouldn’t feel this way. I would love you as my sister. But unfortunately, we were not raised that way, and I find myself quite attracted to you as a man is to a woman. So, I have decided to give up.” 

“Give up?” She squeaks out. 

“Yes, giving up trying to be good. I’m just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may.”

“But, but.” 

“Enola, your mouth would be better suited not speaking right now.” 

“Wha-” Her words are cut off when their lips are once again connected in a deep kiss. 

And she completely forgets what she was going to say.   
  


* * *

  
Later, the two of them are lounging in the living room. He is supposed to be teaching her fingering on the violin, but his fingers were otherwise occupied when the door buzzer goes off. 

She lets out a gasp and stares at him. “What do we do?” 

He smirks at her and moves his hand. “Well, I think the first thing would be to tug your night dress down.” 

She glares at him and swats his arm, but does as he suggests. She tugs on her housecoat and sits down properly as he wipes his hand, and then opens the door. And is almost bowled over by Madam Chrispe. 

“What on earth? Madam Chrispe?” 

“I am so sorry to disturb you like this, Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes. But I really had no one else to turn to.” 

Enola snapped into detective mode as the sight of the tear stained woman. “No please, not a bother at all. Please sit, shall I fetch you some tea?” 

She shook her head and dabbed her eyes. “Thank you no, I need assistance. Last night, my granddaughter, Essie, was supposed to walk home from work. My daughter, her Mam, has been ailing from a lung infection.” 

“My sympathies.” Sherlock said softly. 

“Thank you. She wants nothing more than Essie to be home, but the family is destitute, and I can only do so much. So Essie works at a grand house and has taken to walking home in the evenings. Usually, someone escorts her, but it was so late at night no one could do it.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as Enola moved to her side. “It was such a short walk, really. Nothing she hasn’t done before. But she never arrived. When I asked around, neighbors heard screams in the alley last night.” 

“Have you gone to the police?” Enola asked. 

She shook her head almost fiercely. “The police surely wouldn’t care about some poor girl from the slums that went missing. They will mostly likely conclude she ran off with a gentleman.” 

“And what makes you think she did not?” Sherlock asked, not harshly, but the tone was not kind. Enola shot him a glare and patted Madam Chrispe’s hand. 

“There is some truth to that, a young girl from the slums will often contract a marriage to better herself.” 

Madam Chrispe cleared her throat. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but Essie was not one to enjoy men’s company. If she did run off, which she did not, it weren’t with no man.” 

Sherlock nodded and Madam Chrispe sniffled. “You will find her Mr. Holmes, that is what you do isn’t it?” 

“Yes Madam Chrispe. It is what I do. And Enola as well.”   
  


* * *

  
Once they were dressed, Madam Chrispe led them down to the alley that the neighbors said they heard screams from. Enola stood back as Sherlock stepped into the alley. 

“Enola, come closer. You must learn.” 

She swallowed and took a step forward. “Learn what?” 

He turned to her, and she almost drew back from the intensity of his eyes. “How to look without seeing.” 

She nodded and followed him, her slippers barely making a noise as they moved almost in tandem. 

Sherlock kneeled down and ran his gloved fingers over a spot of dirt. 

“A woman lay here.” 

Sherlock’s eyes tracked the dirt movement. “She crawled. Her hands were holding something.”  
  
He kicks some broken wood pieces. 

“She hit the attacker with something. A washer’s buckets by the look of this wood.” 

Enola slides her arm around his to keep up with him as he moves.  
  
“She ran...over here. She was followed.” 

He moved around the small space. 

“Her tracks lead away from the scene. Towards…” He peers down the alley. 

“The docks.” 

He and Enola run down the alley to the docks. It’s busy, but not overly so. It was still early. 

He looks around trying to see anything, blood or bodies. But nothing. 

Madam Chrispe ran up behind them panting softly. “What madness drove her here?” 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Fear.” 

He was about to speak again when a familiar voice was heard. 

“Mr. Holmes?” 

“Lestrade?” 

“Would you come with me sir. There is something you need to see. Perhaps your Lady should hang back a bit.” 

Sherlock narrowed his gaze into a hard look. “My Lady goes where I go.” 

Lestrade nodded. “Very well, this way.” 

The sight was something to behold. 

Essie sat on a barrel. Her eyes had been forced open with amateur stitching. 

It appeared she was staring off into the sunset, and would have looked almost peaceful if she had her head attached to her shoulders, instead of sitting in the lap of her body. 

There was a loud wail from Madam Chrispe, but Enola barely heard her. 

“Who would do such a thing?” She whispered as she tightened her grip on Sherlock’s arm. 

“That Enola, is the true mystery.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say when the next update will be, as I said creative slump. But this mystery might be the thing to perk me up! Any suggestions for mystery or otherwise for these two would be WELCOME!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please leave Kudos and Comments!


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